


The Heart of a Giant

by IchiBri



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Blood, But only a little, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff, Jean Has a Potty Mouth, M/M, Marco's a giant, POV Third Person, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8229403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchiBri/pseuds/IchiBri
Summary: Jean is hired to rescue a young woman from the clutches of a dastardly giant, but he soon figures out all is not what it seems.Loosely based on the fairy tale "The Giant Who Had No Heart in His Body"(JeanMarco Week Day 1: Fairy Tale/Magic)





	

"Wait a minute.  So you're telling me you want me to sneak into the giant's castle -  _the_ fucking giant - to rescue your daughter  _and_ you want me to bring back the giant's heart as revenge with my only reward being your daughter's hand in marriage?"

"Y-yes, that's right," the concerned father stammered.  Wringing his fingers together, he eyed the man-for-hire seated across from him at the dining table.

Fingers drumming against the tabletop, the man-for-hire considered the offered deal, scowl marring his already sharp features.  He sucked in a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a single moment before releasing it in a huff.  The chair screeched against the floor as the man stood to leave.

"Jean, please!  You're the only-"

"Sounds fun.  I'm in."

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" the father proclaimed his gratitude with watery eyes.

"Yeah, yeah.  Just hope your daughter agrees to the terms, or I'm leaving her behind as giant fodder."

"She will, she will," the father insisted.

But Jean wasn't so sure.  The age of giving away a daughter's hand in marriage as payment had long since passed.  Maybe more conservative parents stuck to that should-be-forgotten tradition, but it didn't suit his tastes.

The daughter's hand in marriage wasn't what Jean wanted from this job.  If that were the case, Jean would've been married a half dozen times by now.  No, what Jean wanted was far more egotistical than a bride or even a handful of gold coins.  For how many people could proudly proclaim they slayed  _the_ giant? One, and it was going to be Jean.  He'd make sure of that.

Jean excused himself before the father had the chance to round the table and trap him in a sure to be snot and tear filled embrace.  He exited into the quiet country street, not another soul in sight.  A lesser man would get on his horse, ride home, and spend the evening strategizing a plan to break into the giant's castle.  But Jean Kirschtein was not a lesser man.

Jean Kirschtein had an arrogant confidence in his weaponry skills, albeit warranted.  The man knew his way around blades, known to openly carry numerous on his person - a dagger in each boot, throwing knives strapped to his thighs, combat knives in shoulder sheaths, and dual blades strapped to his back.  With his arsenal and experience, Jean set off for the giant's castle on the hill.

Despite being far outside of the village limits, the castle fit for a giant could be seen in the distance.  The ominous stone fortress looked out of place surrounded by the soft dips and mounds of rolling hills and meadows.  On many occasions, Jean had questioned whether or not the cruel, despicable giant of gossip and rumor truly lived beside a meadow of wildflowers.  The castle fit the image of dark and horrendous, but the serenity of the surrounding nature welcomed a curious traveler or two.

Which Jean assumed the young maiden fell victim to.  He imagined it as he rode closer to the castle, noting a few butterflies flitting among the daisies and lupines, the lilies and geraniums.  She was probably drawn to the reds and whites, the purples and pinks, with the intention of picking a few on her way home.  Little did she know the giant could cross the large distance between her and the castle in a half dozen massive strides.  The giant plucked her from the meadow like one of the wildflowers and locked her away in some dark dungeon.

With thoughts of a heroic endgame flooding his mind, Jean brazenly rode into the looming shadow of the castle.  The stone towered into the sky, so high Jean lost sight of it in the clouds.  He momentarily wondered what the world looked like from such a vantage point - far too vast, probably, and Jean preferred not to think about how small he was in the world's eyes.

Although the massive door greeting him did not help his inferiority complex.  Even standing upon his horse's back, his outstretched arms wouldn't be able to reach the wrought iron door knocker.  Not that Jean had the decency to knock.  Where was the fun in that?

He twisted in the saddle, craning his neck to scrutinize the castle walls.  Square windows, easily three times Jean's arm span in size, lacked panes of glass.  Jean watched a cardinal fly through the opening, and his lips upturned into a brash smirk.

After dismounting from his horse, Jean dug through his saddle bags to retrieve a pair of pickaxes and some rope.  He left his horse to graze in the meadow, hoping it wouldn't wander too far in case he needed a quick get away.

When Jean approached the castle wall, his gaze followed the cracks and crevices up the stone.  From a distance, the castle looked impregnable, but its defense unraveled piece by piece within Jean's mind.  After looping the rope and hanging it around his neck, Jean tested his grips on the pickaxes.

He swung for the wall, burying the top of the pickaxe into a crack in the stone.  Another swing had the second pick digging into the wall.  Jean's copper eyes sought his entrance, so far out of his reach.  He had scaled walls plenty of times in similar fashion, but nothing quite this tall.  If Jean hesitated a moment to swing his weight off the ground, he'd never admit to it out loud.  Because he had to do this; he could do this.

One swing at a time, Jean heaved his weight up the wall.  His boots scraped against stone as they lodged themselves into even the tiniest of footholds.  A mantra of  _don't look down_ kept Jean's eyes from wandering any lower than his feet.  If he caught a glimpse of the grass below, his grip tightened on the pickaxes and his eyes darted for the nearing endgame.  With every chink of a pickaxe colliding with stone, Jean closed in on his entrance until he finally reached its sill.

Hauling his weight onto the wide slab of stone, Jean huffed a breath.  He crawled on his hands and knees to the ledge, staring down at the wildflowers and meandering equine.  From this high up, the flowers were mere dots and dapples of color; and Jean's mount - a true beast among beasts - looked like a child's rocking horse.  He hated to imagine what would've happened had he lost his footing or his grip slipped on the pickaxe.

Shaking the thought from his head, Jean scurried back from the edge.  He rose to his feet and brushed soil from his trousers.  Soil?  Jean stared down at the smudged dirt stains on his knees, his brow furrowed.  When his eyes downturned to the sill he stood on, scattered soil littered the stone.  His gaze followed the specks of dirt as he turned to face the castle's interior.

"Damn," he breathed, eyes wide and jaw slack.  Jean wasn't sure what he had expected to see - something dark and gloomy, bones of the dead maybe.

The brightness of natural light flooding the entryway momentarily stunned Jean's system.  He stood frozen, gaping like a fish out of water, as he stared upon enormous clay pots - each with a forest of flowers and ferns Jean could get lost in.  Vines climbed the walls, their flowers large enough for Jean to wrap himself in.  The floral scent was sharp in Jean's nostrils.  He choked on the air, coughing and hacking until his senses adjusted.

"Hello?  Evelyn, is that you?" the voice echoed like claps of thunder.

Jean darted for the cover of vine leaves.  As heavy footfalls drew nearer, he entangled himself in the stem and tendrils to hide behind violet petals.  Lungs heaving inside his chest, his heart pounded against his ribs; and he feared its erratic beat resounded like sticks of dynamite exploding.  So loud within his own ears, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed his heart to calm itself.

But with the giant's feet scuffling against the stone floor, Jean's breathing ceased altogether.  He held the air in his lungs and gripped tighter to the stem's stalk.

"Evelyn?"  Despite the volume of the giant's voice, Jean found it to be soft, dare he say gentle?

A stillness followed the name still hanging in the air.  Waiting... waiting... but for what?  Jean knew what he was waiting for, but what did the giant expect?  This Evelyn, Jean recognized the name as his client's daughter.  Surely the giant didn't expect his prisoner to reply.

But if even the giant was looking for Evelyn, then Jean could assume she escaped this cruel creature's confines and was now lost in the expanse of the castle.  Before the giant got the chance to imprison her again, Jean would swoop in and rescue her from her peril.  Simple as that, especially if he didn't have to fight off the giant guarding her cell or cage or whatever the giant kept her locked up in.

A squealing whistle broke the stillness.  Jean jolted with a start, the morning glory bloom he hid behind rustling with his movement.  But the stiffness to his limbs melted away when the giant gasped a soft  _Ohh!_ and rushed out of the entryway.  Jean peeked around the flower petal to catch a glimpse of daisies - yellow as the sun, soft pink like a newborn piglet, orange like a blazing fire, red like ripe strawberries, and white like the wings of angels.  The colors nestled within the short locks of dark hair, a stray leaf here and there.

The giant of nightmares and horror stories told around campfires never had flowers blooming in his hair.  Was Jean at the right castle?  Was this  _the_ giant and not just some random giant passing through?  He shrugged off the inconsistencies.  He wasn't getting paid to investigate rumors surrounding the giant.  Actually, he wasn't getting paid at all, so the faster he finished this job, the sooner he could move on to the next.

With the coast clear, Jean stepped back onto the window sill.  He glanced over the edge, checking for any obstacles that may present as a problem.  But finding none in his path, he retrieved one of his pickaxes and tied the rope he had around his neck to the axe's handle.  Lodging the tip of the axe into the outer wall, Jean tossed the remaining length of rope over the interior ledge.  After a quick safety check of the axe's weight capacity, Jean took hold of the rope to begin his descent to the castle floor.

As luck would have it, Jean had barely enough rope to make it to ground level.  He dropped himself the remaining couple meters, landing in a roll before springing back up.  Darting for the nearest clay pot, he hid himself in its dark shadow.

Three paths presented themselves to Jean.  The first, diagonally to the right, looked to be some sort of formal dining room.  Jean wasn't in the mood to become the giant's next meal, so his eyes turned to the path straight ahead.  The entryway opened up to a staircase so large Jean doubted he could climb a single step without the help of his pickaxes.  Glancing up at the window sill he once stood on, he abandoned the thought of retrieving the picks in favor of running toward the third and final room offered to him.

The clay pots and flower forests flowed into the study.  Bookcases as tall as century old trees lined three walls.  The far wall - the only one not home to a mountain of human-sized books - had a long, horizontal window cut through the stone at the perfect height to allow the sun's rays to shine down upon the plants.  Wooden shutters were propped open, probably only closed when the weather turned sour to prevent any water damage from befalling the impressive book collection.

Jean had only a single moment to appreciate the serenity of birds chirping on the window sill before the giant's pounding footsteps forced Jean to seek cover.  He scrambled for the nearest bookshelf, lunging for the space between two books tilted against each other.

"Evelyn, the tea's ready.  Where are you?"

Jean tucked his legs beneath himself and crawled toward the light of the study.  Still hidden in the books' shadows, Jean lowered himself to his belly and silently watched the giant.

The other carefully searched the room.  Each step was meticulously placed, the giant checking and double checking before letting his crushing weight hit the floor.  The giant's worn trousers reached mid-calf, and Jean noted patches of daisies sprouted upon his freckled skin.  The daisies matched the sprouts in the giant's hair, and Jean caught sight of stems embedded in the giant's skin - a few stray tendrils curled at their ends.

The giant searched the room, periodically calling out the girl's name.  Despite never receiving a reply, the giant continued his search.  He dropped to his knees upon a woolen rug to peer beneath a plush chair that faced the window.  Coming up empty, he stood with a quiet sigh.  He called out Evelyn's name once more, waited for a few beats of his heart, and then moved his search further into the castle.

As the giant's footsteps grew distant, Jean crawled to the edge of the bookshelf and peeked his head out of the shadows.  He gazed down the hall the giant disappeared into.  Vines ran along the cracks in the walls until the hallway opened up to greenery and nature like none imaginable.  If Jean closed his eyes and truly listened, he could hear the soft babble of flowing water and the sweet tunes of songbirds and the skittering of a squirrel climbing up the trunk of a tree.

Jean's eyes snapped open at the tap of heels upon stone.  The sound shattered the serenity of Jean's mental scenery, but Jean shrugged off the images of nature.  There wouldn't be a forest waiting for him at the end of the hallway; he was in a castle after all.

Strawberry blonde curls and a flowing pink dress caught Jean's attention from the corner of his eye as the young woman dashed for the entryway.

"Evelyn!" Jean called out to her.

Bright blue eyes locked on Jean as he emerged from his hiding spot.  "Who are you, and why do you know my name?" Evelyn questioned, her bright eyes darkening.

Jean raised his hands in a placating gesture.  "My name is Jean, and your father sent me to rescue you."

The sharpness to her brows and the iciness in her stare softened at Jean's words.  A watery sheen clouded her eyes as moisture pooled in their corners.  She ran to Jean, all but throwing herself at him and latching onto his shirt.  "Thank you so much!" she sobbed.  "The giant- he kidnapped me!  I was just picking some flowers for Father, and the giant yelled and roared and demanded payment!"

Jean stiffened at the sudden embrace.  Gingerly, he patted Evelyn's back as she cried.  When her sobs grew a little too loud for comfort, Jean grasped her shoulders and gently pushed her back.  "You need to stop crying or the giant'll hear you.  Okay?"

Evelyn sniffled as she nodded her head.

"Good.  Now I'm going to get you out of here, alright?"

Jean waited for another nod of affirmation before grasping her wrist and leading her to the entryway.  The pair dashed across the room until the shadow of a flower pot overcame them.  

Jean huffed to catch his breath as he searched the wall for his rope.  Spotting the end of it dangling down, Jean hesitated to ask, "How do you feel about scaling a wall?"

Evelyn's gaze followed Jean's.  "I don't think I can reach that."

With a running start, Jean figured he could grab onto it after a few attempts.  But that wouldn't help Evelyn.  He could always give her a boost up.

"If I can get you to the rope, can you climb up by yourself?"

Evelyn hummed in contemplation.  "Most likely."

Jean quirked an eyebrow, but he didn't have the time to come up with a safer plan.  "Okay, so I'm going to boost you up, and then-"

"I'm not leaving."

"Huh?"

"I said I'm not leaving," she haughtily reiterated, hands on her hips.

"And why's that?" Jean countered.  "You realize the giant could come back any moment, right?"  They didn't have time to be arguing while the giant actively searched for his escaped prisoner.

"Haven't you heard about the giant's gold heart?  It's rumored to be worth a fortune, and if we take it, the giant dies.  We'll be doing the world a favor."

Jean huffed a sigh.  He did promise the girl's father the giant's heart, but no one said anything about it being made of gold.  Jean pictured something a little more grotesque - like maybe an actual heart.  But he wasn't going to complain, especially if he didn't have to sully his boots with blood.  They're his favorite pair with the leather worn down just right.

"I don't have the time to protect you while searching for a golden heart, so if you want the giant's heart, you're going to climb up that rope and wait for me by my horse outside."

Evelyn's glare scrutinized Jean before she spun to face the wall.  Holding her arms out at her sides, she huffed, "Fine, but don't even think about running away with the heart."

Jean walked up behind her and grasped her by her waist.  "I won't.  You ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Bending his knees, Jean used the upward momentum to lift Evelyn.  Her legs flailed, a heel hitting Jean's thigh, as she reached for the rope.  Jean grunted when a foot collided with his gut.  Sliding his hand down to her rear, Jean hefted her weight as high as he could.

"Quit copping a feel!" Evelyn snapped with an aimed kick skimming Jean's ear.

"Grab the damn rope then," Jean grunted.

"I'm trying!"  Evelyn's feet fought for traction against stone, slipping and sliding until her left heel caught in a groove.  She used the foothold to push herself up until she finally grabbed hold of the rope.  "I've got it.  Now get your hands off me."

"Yes, ma'am," Jean said as he let go of her.  Stepping back, he silently watched Evelyn climb up the wall, not a hint of hesitation in her movements.

She paused her ascent to peer down at Jean.  'How are you going to escape?"

"I'll figure something out," Jean shrugged noncommittally.  If worse came to worst, Jean could always substitute the pickaxes for a pair of knives and hope he didn't break his neck trying to scale the wall.

Jean stood and watched Evelyn climb until she reached the sill.  Even after she disappeared from his line of sight, Jean waited.  He waited as the rope slithered up the wall, waited as a pickaxe was lodged into stone, waited for what felt like an eternity.  But after that lifetime of waiting, Jean breathed a sigh at the beloved silence - free of any dying screams as a young woman falls to her death.

A golden heart, huh?  Jean didn't appreciate having such crucial information withheld from him, nor did he like the idea of slaying the giant.

Did he want the fame and glory that came with such a kill?  Of course.  He's be a humble saint to turn down such an opportunity, and Jean was neither humble nor a saint.  But the stories weren't adding up.

From the few glimpses he'd seen of the giant, Jean doubted the giant was the rumored one of tavern tales.  Bright, pastel daisies were far from the grotesque mutilations said to mar the giant's skin.  And a castle full of natural sunlight and plants grown exponentially larger than ever recorded wasn't exactly the fortress of broken dreams and mangled bodies Jean had imagined.

Would Jean search for this supposed golden heart?  Of course, he would; but the girl and her father wouldn't lay eyes upon it until Jean got to the bottom of these discrepancies.

Jean stuck close to the shadows of the walls and clay pots and towering flowers as he slunk through the entryway and study.  He peered down the hallway decorated in flowing vines.  Upon finding the coast clear, Jean tiptoed further into the castle.

When Jean came to the end of the hall, warm afternoon light flooded in from above.  He took only a moment to glance up at the clear, midsummer sky before his eyes returned to stare at the jungle in front of him, awestruck.  Stepping stones the size of a one-room schoolhouse marked a path through the forest of towering weeping willows, cheery blossoms, and sugar maples.  The giant trees and ferns and flowers had miniature versions of themselves scattered across the grassy ground.  Or maybe not miniature, but normal sized.

Jean followed the path of circular cobblestones, winding his way through the breathtaking beauty of nature.  The imagery he had imagined can't compare to the real thing.  Inside this castle, there was indeed a squirrel - multiple, actually - and a doe and its fawn munching on fallen apples, an eagle perched so high on an oak branch that Jean could barely see its white head.  A wild rabbit hopped across Jean's path, disappearing in the berry bushes.

When the trees and bushes gave way to an enormous pond, he stuttered a gasp.  Stones stacked so beautifully and meticulously had water flowing over them to fall in a calming trickle to the body of the pond.  Drawn to it, Jean left the path to step to the pond's bank.  Crisp grass crunched beneath his knees as he knelt at the water's edge.  His fingers skimmed along the surface, the resulting ripples bringing a smile to Jean's lips.

A flash of orange brushed against Jean's fingertips.  He fell back with a gasp, staring wide-eyed at a speckled orange and white fish head breaking the surface of the water.  With large eyes, the fish gaped open-mouthed at Jean.  Jean stared into the fish's mouth - so big it could easily swallow Jean up to his shoulders.  When the fish realized Jean had nothing to feed it, it sunk lower into the water.  Jean eagerly leaned forward on the heels of his hands.  His mouth fell open in wonder as the fish glided just below the water's surface.  He watched it swim toward the trickling waterfall, noting the other splotches of orange and red and yellow gathering by the rocks.

It's be so easy for Jean to forget his original purpose in favor of exploring every square inch of this oasis.  He could lounge in the grass - staring up at the sky and the canopy of trees - while daydreaming of swimming with the koi.  Or he could climb the nearest tree and taste the flesh of fruit larger than him.  He could whistle with the birds or offer a chunk of apple to the doe and her fawn.

But Evelyn waited for him.  His clients waited for a gold heart.  Jean had a reputation to uphold, so no matter how tempted he was to tell Evelyn and her father to fuck off, he'd complete this job.  Whether that meant handing over the giant's heart or ending this deal with Evelyn's rescue, Jean wasn't sure yet.

He reluctantly stood and turned his back to the glimmering pond.  Returning to the path, Jean followed the stepping stones in a wide, arched trail.  The path led him to the opposite side of the castle from which Jean came.  Instead of the trees and vines fading into a hallway, a half wall separated the nature oasis from a quaint kitchen.

A kitchen with a view, huh?  Jean liked it.  If he could climb up the wooden stool, he'd sit upon its seat as he gazed over the half wall at the birds flitting between trees.  But even if he somehow managed to reach the seat, Jean wan't tall enough to see over the wall.  It was a pity, really.

He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.  Did he actually want to complete this job?  This giant - hell, Jean didn't even know his name - hadn't hurt anyone.  He didn't terrorize the nearby town or small farm dwellings.  All of the rumors swirling around were the same tales Jean heard when he was a wee little boy, passed down from his grandparents' generation.  Maybe there once lived a giant in this castle who was a terrifyingly cruel monster, but Jean doubted it was this giant with daisies sprouting from his skin.

So, he supposedly had a heart made of gold, who cared?  Jean had done some morally questionable things for money in the past.  His entire reputation was built on that, but he'd never slain an innocent man.  And no matter how much a golden heart could be sold for, the giant's life was worth so much more.

"Damn it," he kicked a stray pebble on the floor and watched it skitter into the grass of the forest oasis.  Evelyn and her father weren't going to be happy with his decision.

Jean stepped to leave, to head back to the entryway and somehow scale the wall, but a shadow loomed over him.  It grew on the floor, engulfing the entirety of Jean and reaching all the way to the blades of grass.

It was instinct that made Jean draw a blade from his back.  In the split second it took for him to spin around, he slashed at the adversary and immediately regretted it.

The giant stumbled back a few hurried steps, nearly tripping over his own feet.  He straightened and held his hands up in front of him, a fresh cut across the pad of his pointer finger.  With his head bowed, the giant spoke in a gentle whisper, "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you."

Jean stood frozen before the giant as his eyes gazed up and up and up.  He was a mere ant in comparison, so easily squashed beneath the giant's foot.  But the thought vanished from his mind when a single drop of blood splattered on the floor between them.  Jean stared at the puddle as three white petals floated down to land in the blood.

He sheathed his blade as fast as he had drawn it.  "No, I'm sorry.  Are you okay?"

"Oh, uh..."  The giant looked at the cut upon his finger before smiling down at Jean.  "I'll be fine."

Another drop of blood fell to the floor.  Jean watched the liquid pool closer to his feet, but he couldn't bring himself to step back before it stained the tip of his boot.  He flipped open one of the pouches on his belt and dug out a roll of bandages.  Holding it up for the giant to see, he scratched at his cheek with his other hand.  "I can, uh, bandage it for you if you give me a lift up."

The giant meekly nodded.  Slowly - as if approaching a wild animal - he squatted down and extended his cut-free hand to Jean, his knuckles flat against the floor.

Jean walked closer to the giant's hand.  He stared at the wrinkled lines on the offered palm, a few stray tendrils and flower buds sprouting from the skin.  His first step was hesitant, careful not to walk upon a blooming daisy, as he gingerly found his way to the center of the giant's palm.

When he looked up at the giant's face, Jean's knees grew weak at the tender smile he saw.  Caramel-colored eyes shined bright with gratitude, so bright Jean averted his gaze.  He didn't deserve such gratitude, especially after slicing the giant's finger open.

The giant slowly straightened up.  Jean wobbled a bit and struggled to balance.  The give of flesh beneath his boots had Jean stumbling a step forward.  He braced himself and rocked his weight with the giant's movements.

The giant laid his hand upon the countertop and watched with fond wonder as Jean tiptoed around each leaf and petal and blossom.  When Jean hopped onto the countertop; the giant missed the weight upon his hand, missed the false closeness that clouded his mind.

"Your finger," Jean said.

The giant blinked a few times before breathing a quiet  _oh_.  He glanced down at his injured finger and wiped the excess blood on his trousers before offering the finger to Jean.

Jean was not a man known for a gentle touch.  He never thought his rough and calloused hands were capable of being soft, what with his line of work.  A gentle hand wasn't optimal for punching faces, after all.  But after digging out ever roll of bandage he had, Jean found himself taking extra care not to cause the giant any further pain.  With each brush of his hands against the giant's skin, Jean's eyes flicked to check the giant's face.

But the giant showed no signs of discomfort.  On the contrary, he gazed upon the fumbling Jean with a softness not meant for a man who cut him.

Careful so as not to tear the remaining petals, Jean bandaged over the sliced white daisy.  He swallowed against the lump in his throat.  "Aren't you gonna ask who I am, why I'm here?"

The giant hummed.  "I guess I should, right?"

Jean snorted a laugh.  He tied off the bandages and took a single step back.  "You should," he said, voice light and airy.

The giant pulled his hand back and examined the thin layers of bandages, barely enough to wrap around his finger three times.  The cut was shallow - a mere paper cut.  It would've been fine after ten or fifteen minutes, so the bandages were a little unnecessary.  But warmth bloomed in his cheeks like the daisies upon his skin when the giant stared at the tiny bow tying the bandages together. 

"Would you like some tea?"

"Um... sure?" Jean answered.

The giant rummaged through the kitchen cabinets.  He pushed aside plates and glasses to reach the back of the shelves, brightening when he found what he was after.

Jean stifled a laugh at the table and chair set the giant placed next to him on the counter.  In the giant's hand, they resembled accessories for a dollhouse.

The giant brushed the dust off of them before pulling the chair back and gesturing for Jean to sit.  "I hope you like rose tea."

"Me too," Jean quietly mumbled as he took a seat.  He propped an elbow on the tabletop and lolled his head against the knuckles of his hand.

Jean's lips quirked up with amusement as he watched the giant pinch a tiny mug between his pointer finger and thumb.  He picked up the tea kettle with his opposite hand and ever so slowly tipped the spout toward the laughably small mug.  A single drop of red-tinted tea gathered at the tip, hanging low over the edge, until it feel to the mug with a splash.  That single drop filled the mug to its brim, and the giant was extremely careful in offering it to Jean.

Jean cupped the mug in his hands, the heat of the tea hot against his skin.  As the giant poured his own much larger mug of tea, Jean took a hesitant sip.  The taste was delicate on his tongue, made even sweeter by its subtle fragrance.  In Jean's opinion, it suited the giant.

Setting his mug on the counter, the giant took a seat on the stool.  He crossed his arms on the countertop, fingers fiddling and tapping against the speckled slate.  "Who are you and why are you here?"

Jean was sure he wasn't supposed to laugh, but a single snort of amusement escaped him.  The giant's tone didn't suggest the anger and suspicion associated with finding a stranger in one's home, but a more genuine and friendly curiosity.  "Jean Kirschtein, man-for-hire at your service."  Remembering that his mother didn't raise an impolite asshole, Jean extended his hand in greeting to the giant.

The giant reached to return the handshake but paused.  His fingers curled to leave only his pointer finger extended.  "Marco Bodt, a giant.  But I guess that's pretty obvious," he laughed, the soft lilt echoing around them.

"Marco," Jean murmured the name, testing the feel of it as he grasped the offered finger.  His arms moved up and down when he shook Marco's finger.  As he let go, his hands brushed against the leaves of a little yellow daisy.  Jean marveled at the tiny flower - or at least it was tiny compared to the other flowers in the castle; but then again, to Marco this was a normal-sized castled filled with normal-sized furniture and plants and books and fish.  In Marco's world, all of this was normal.

"As for why I'm here..." Jean trailed off as he scratched at the nape of his neck.  His gaze flicked away from the giant pair of gentle eyes staring at him.  "Can I ask why Evelyn was here?"

"Oh, that's right!"  Marco glanced around the room, his head swiveling back and forth like an owl's.  "She's lost.  We have to find her."

"She's waiting for me outside."

"She should join us for t-"

"Marco."

The giant fell silent at the call of his name.  How long had it been since someone used it to address him?  Marco couldn't recall.  He'd gotten so used to answering to giant, monster, and a handful of crude terms that hearing his actual name had his lungs forgetting how to breathe for a moment.

"Why was she here?" Jean asked once more.

Marco blinked out of his little trance.  "She knocked on the door, so I invited her in for tea.  But then she disappeared."

She knocked?  Who had the gall to walk right up to a giant's castle and knock?  Certainly not Jean; but despite how implausible that sounded, Jean believed Marco.  Wholeheartedly and without a shred of doubt.

"I hate to tell you this," Jean began.  He licked his lips, tongue peeking out to wet them, before sighing.  "Evelyn abused your kindness.  She, uh," he scratched the nape of his neck, "wants your heart."

Marco's shoulders fell as he slumped forward.  "Maybe she-"

"Marco," Jean said so softly it was barely above a whisper.  "I was hired by her father to rescue her and retrieve your heart.  They said you kidnapped her, and then she refused to leave if I didn't steal your golden heart."

"I... don't have a gold heart."

Jean wanted to breathe a sigh of relief - without a golden heart, Marco's life was safe - but Marco's forlorn tone and downcast eyes had Jean second-guessing that sigh.  "I'm sorry.  I had no idea that was their plan.  I'm not gonna hurt you - or well, hurt you anymore, I'm sorry about that too - I didn't mean-"

"It's not that," Marco shook his head.  With a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he said, "That heart is long gone."

Jean loathed the silence which followed, but he dared not break it.  What right did he have to do so?  He broke into Marco's home on the assumption that the giant was some grotesque monster with the intention of killing Marco.  Jean didn't deserve any explanations, let alone the hospitality he's been shown.

He would've sat in silence and sipped rose tea until Marco kicked him out, and he would've been grateful for every second of it; but when Marco opened his mouth to speak, Jean found himself wishing to hear the other's voice.  He waited, even as Marco thought better about speaking and chose instead to refill his mug.  He waited - patiently, if not a little nervously as his finger circled the rim of his own glass.

Marco cupped his mug with both hands, feeling the renewed heat seep into his skin.  It was a comfort he didn't know he needed.  He hadn't expected to be sitting with a man hired to kill him.  No, the person he made tea for was Evelyn; and she wanted to talk about flowers and sunlight and wildlife.  Or so he thought.  His mother always told him he was too trusting of strangers, but Marco believed in the good of everyone he met.  Plus, Jean apologized.  Jean looked utterly appalled at having sliced his finger and went so far as bandaging it for him, so he could be forgiven.  Right?

"Are you going to leave?"

The question came out of nowhere, and upon hearing it, Jean wished for the silence to return.  He had no reason to stay.  His job was finished.  Evelyn was rescued, even though Jean doubted she needed rescuing in the first place, and there was no golden heart.  Jean could leave.  He could march back into that old man's house and demand compensation for having wasted his time.  He could ride home to an empty house, save for a stray rat or two.  He could sleep in a lumpy bed and wake up to a new day of searching for more lucrative jobs.  But he didn't want to leave.

Jean tipped back the last of his tea, lukewarm but nonetheless flavorful, before standing.  "Could you give me a lift somewhere?"

If Marco looked a little crestfallen by his answer, Jean couldn't be sure.  For all Jean knew, he was projecting his own feelings onto the giant.

Marco nodded, a few quick bobbles of his head.  "Where to?"

"Your entryway window."

"Um, okay?"  Despite his confusion, Marco offered his open hand to Jean.

Maybe Jean got a little greedy as he climbed onto the giant's palm and sat down pretzel-legged.  His fingers brushed against the freckled skin and along the edges of a soft pink petal.  He wondered what they felt like.  Could Marco feel the brushes of his fingertips dancing across the petals and leaves?  What did it feel like to have one blossom from his skin?  Did it hurt?  Or was it like hair growing, where he didn't even notice until one day it was just there?

After Marco carried Jean to the window sill, Jean was reluctant to leave the comfort of Marco's palm.  Wrapped in the giant's warmth, he imagined this was what a baby swaddled in its favorite blanket felt like.  It'd be easy to fall asleep, to drift off with the fresh scent of daisies flooding his system.

"You're not going to jump, are you?" Marco asked, voice thick with concern. 

"Of course not," Jean said with a laugh.  Even the great Jean Kirschtein wouldn't survive that jump; and after meeting the neighborhood's friendly giant, Jean had no intentions of leaving this world, not when there were so many mysteries in this castle he wanted to unravel.

Jean kicked his abandoned pickaxe free.  As he walked across the stone slab, he nudged the pick along with him until it tumbled over the edge in a tangle of rope.

The sound of it hitting the ground drew Evelyn's attention from where she sat upon the horse's back.  From his height, Jean couldn't make out her facial expressions; but he imagined the dagger-like glare she directed at him with her next shout of words.  "What are you doing?  Where's my heart?"

Jean scoffed.  "Your heart is in your chest where it belongs."

"We had a deal!"

"Did we?  Or were you and your father going to leave me high and dry?"  When Evelyn didn't respond, Jean continued, "Leave.  And don't come back."

"And if I return?" Evelyn dared to ask.

"Well, not only will it be a waste of time - what with there being no gold heart - but you'll have a rough time getting in."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh," Jean smiled with a flash of pride.  "I forgot to mention.  I just decided I'll be defending this castle on the giant's behalf.  Good luck getting past a master of blades."  With a little wave of his hand, he added, "Bye now."

Well, there went his horse.  Maybe Jean should've asked to bring his horse in to let it graze with the deer, but then again Jean wasn't cruel enough to make someone walk all the way back to town.  His horse would probably come running back after a day or two, so he figured it'd be fine.  He shrugged it off; after all, having no transportation meant he could stay longer.

Jean huffed a breath as he turned back to Marco.  "Phew, now where were we?"

"I- You're not leaving?" Marco perked up, his voice cheerier as he tried to hide a growing smile.

"Kinda stuck here till my horse comes back.  And I can't leave without finding out what you feed your fish."

"My fish?"

"Yeah, your fish.  How'd they get so big?"  Jean walked back over to Marco, and Marco's hand was already waiting for him.  He climbed aboard like it was second-nature, like they were old acquaintances used to this dynamic caused by their substantial size difference.

"Maintaining the pond is crucial.  And they like watermelon, but that's not how they got so big.  It's kinda hard to explain."

Listening to Marco talk - to the soft lilt of his voice - Jean couldn't help but stare at the giant's face, at the kind eyes and gentle smile, the ripples of the petals on his cheeks as he spoke.  Jean wanted to hear more.  "I'll do my best to understand."

Marco pursed his lips and quietly hummed as he walked to his open garden.  His steps were light - careful not to trample even the tiniest of ants.  A giant's eyesight was spectacular; but even to Marco, an ant or ladybug was a mere speck.  But Marco loved those tiny specks, especially the buzzing bumblebees that flit between the daisies in his hair.  The little creatures deserved the common courtesy to not be squished beneath Marco's feet.

He followed the stepping stone path, pausing every other step to admire his family.  Sophia and her new fawn - still yet to be named - looked up from munching on grass; but upon seeing it was only Marco, they returned to their grazing.  Because to the visiting deer and the nesting birds and the towering trees, Marco was family - a brother who grew up beside them, not the monster some viewed him as.

But as he stepped on the grass and stopped beside the pond, Jean's shifting weight on his palm reminded him not everyone saw him as a monster.  The slight tingle of Jean feathering his fingers across Marco's petals hadn't gone unnoticed by Marco.  He rather enjoyed the ghosting of Jean's fingertips and the tickling prickle it brought to his skin.

Marco's leg folded beneath him as he lowered himself to the grass.  When he was seated, he laid his hand upon the ground and watched Jean hop off.

Jean shoved his hands in his pockets and swayed back and forth.  His gaze traveled to the giant sitting beside him.  Even seated, Marco was so much bigger than him, and this time there was no counter to give him a height boost.  But despite Marco's daunting size and Jean's inferiority complex, Jean sank to the ground.

Spreading his legs out in front of him and lounging back on the heels of his palms, Jean tipped his head back to stare at the sky and a canopy of leaves and the freckles on Marco's cheek.  "So the fish."

"The fish," Marco parroted with a laugh.

As if on cue, the same orange and white koi from before popped its head above the surface.  Jean would recognize its gaping mouth anywhere.

"That one's Alex."

"They have names?  All of them?"

"Of course," Marco happily chirped.  He pointed out other splotches of color beneath the water's surface.  "There's Lizzie and Ella, Oliver, Sammy, and Dot is way over by the waterfall.  Rio and Lola are probably hiding behind the rocks.  They tend to hang around there until feeding time."

Jean found himself sitting up and leaning forward to put a name to each swimming splotch of color.  He memorized the color patterns, repeating the names over and over in his head until they stuck.

"How'd they get so big?"  Jean's eyes turned to Marco, seeing the giant suck in a deep breath.  Jean watched as Marco wrung his hands in his lap, and Jean began to think maybe he shouldn't have asked.

"It has to do with my heart."

"Your heart?"

"Yeah," Marco nodded.  He glanced behind himself before leaning back on his hands.  His fingers curled and uncurled in the lush grass.  "It's not gold or anything like that.  The golden heart was actually my mother's.  Mine is made of roots, like a plant."

The explained the daisies, Jean thought.

"Um, I don't know how familiar you are with giant anatomy..."

"Not very," Jean said,

"Well, our hearts aren't like yours.  They're not in our bodies.  We have to keep them close by and intact, or we'll die.  With mine being a bundle of roots, it needs extra care - water, nutrients, just like other plants' roots.  So, it's buried here.  My mother thought that'd be the easiest way to protect it.  And then this happened."  Marco gestured to the oasis around them, the corners of his lips upturned slightly.  "The trees just kept growing and growing, and the fish got bigger and bigger.  Mother said it's probably because the love from my heart seeps into the water."  He laughed at that, a single quiet puff of air.  "Something only a mother would say, right?"

"I don't think so," Jean said as he stood.  He walked over to the pond's edge, squatting down to dip his fingers in the water.  The orange fish - Alex - surfaced right below Jean's hand.  Its scales were smooth beneath his fingertips; they easily glided over the fish's body as it swam away.

In Jean's opinion, Marco's mother was spot on.  The proof was before him in the school of fish with loving names, in the glimmering pond with crystal clear water, in the wildlife completely at ease despite the giant in their mist.  Jean would bet money on every animal which visits Marco's forest oasis having a name and every plant receiving meticulous care catered to its species.  Maybe Marco couldn't feel it because he'd grown used to it, but Jean felt the warmth the moment he entered the castle.  Not a physical warmth, but the warmth one felt deep within when everything was calm and peaceful and homey.

"Tell me more."

"More?" Marco squeaked, gaze darting to the tiny human as if the very idea of Jean being interested in his life - his world, his perspective - was absurd.

"Yeah, more."  Jean glanced up at the nearest tree to spot a bird with black spots on its beige-colored belly.  "What type of bird is that?  And what's its name?"

The blindingly bright smile Marco flashed had Jean mirroring one of his own.  He settled back into the grass as Marco excitedly talked about Fleck and her clutch of eggs ready to hatch in the next day or two.  Jean hoped he'd be here to see them, not necessarily because he'd never seen hatchlings beyond ducks and chickens, but because he wanted to see Marco discover the baby birds.  He wanted to know whether Marco would coo and swoon at the cuteness, or whether his jaw would slacken in awe and wonder.  Would Marco choose names right then and there?  Or did he wait for individual personalities to show?  Or maybe he only named them if they returned here after leaving the nest.

Jean wanted to know.  He wanted to know anything and everything this gentle giant was willing to share.  If that meant defending this castle as if it was his own home, then so be it.  No one would disturb Marco's peace, misuse his trust, or steal his heart.  Jean would do everything within his power to prevent it; that Jean could say with conviction.

"What's the doe's name?  And her fawn?"

"Oh, that's Sophia.  Her baby doesn't have a name yet.  I can't decide between-"

Yes, Jean knew without a doubt he'd never grow tired of listening to Marco's chatter.  He'd be sure to make a habit of stopping by every chance he got.  And next time, he'd simply knock on the front door.


End file.
